


Dead Weight

by tokeduponsomebadnip



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Best Friends, Car Accidents, Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Childhood Friends, Consensual Underage Sex, Drunk Driving, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Opposites Attract, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Rebound Sex, Social Anxiety, Suicide, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Teenage Drama, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokeduponsomebadnip/pseuds/tokeduponsomebadnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s kinda funny,” I say, “In the movies, the books and shit, or whatever, everybody always tells their lover to let them go and move on, that it’s for the best.</p>
<p>“But I don’t feel like that.”</p>
<p>I let out a dry laugh. “I want you to never get over me. I want to be in your thoughts all the time, the way you always were in mine. Even now, I just want you to be in love with me and only me, forever."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Weight

**Author's Note:**

> This is trash and I'm sorry

The party was at Jean’s house. His parents were out of town for the weekend, as per usual. The boys in the locker room were rowdy, bumping into each other happily abuzz from the close win against the rival high school. It was a very important football win, one that could lead them to regionals. Reiner wiped the sweat from his brow, and picked up his phone. He opened the contact called “Bertl” and began typing a message.

 

His phone buzzed a short time later. Bertholdt would meet him out behind the bleachers in Reiner’s truck. Satisfied with this, Reiner stripped and stepped into one of the steaming shower stalls and began to rinse the perspiration from his body.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Reiner’s truck was a genuine piece of shit. He left it unlocked because no one in their right mind would bother to steal it. It was old, rusty, and had a few holes in the floor. Riding in it always made Bertholdt nervous without fail. But most things made Bertholdt nervous, so he supposed he couldn’t complain. Of course, Reiner’s driving negated all that. He drove fast and determined, like he was racing an invisible foe against whom he had something to prove. That was how Reiner always acted, though. Like there was someone just a little bit better right in front of him that he needed to beat. Bertholdt admired him for that in a way. They were best friends since they had been young and Bertholdt had always looked up to Reiner (even after he hit his growth spurt and began looking down on Reiner). Reiner was confident, driven, and outspokenly extroverted and likeable. People were naturally drawn to him, and Bertholdt had been no exception. And he had to face it: Reiner was gorgeous to boot. It was no wonder all the girls fell for him. He was sweet and kind and caring and who was Bertholdt kidding he was head over heels for his best friend.

 

Maybe he would drink for once tonight.

 

Shaking his head clear of his thoughts, stuffed his lanky body into the passenger seat. Exhausted from the social interaction of the game itself and the party soon to come afterwards, Bertholdt decided to rest his eyes, if only for a moment.

 

Suddenly, after what seemed to be only a few seconds, the truck lurched to one side with Reiner’s muscled weight climbing into the driver’s side, and Bertholdt sat up with a start.

 

"Rise and shine, Bertl," Reiner grinned, throwing his key into the ignition.

 

"I wasn't sleeping.." Bertholdt mumbled, face flushing slightly as the engine turned over and grumpily came to life.

 

"Sure," Reiner continued smiling, oblivious of how charming he was, and they drove off on their way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Naturally, the first thing Reiner did was split off from his more introverted friend and went to find beer. Bertholdt sighed as he lost Reiner in the crowd and looked for a recognizable face. He hadn’t managed to convince Annie to come with him after the fiasco at the last party she came to (Jean puked on her favorite hoodie. She kicked him in the nuts.), so he settled next to Armin, who was nursing what was either Sprite or seltzer while exhaling sharply every now and then about something Eren was up to.

 

Occasionally, he would make some sort of complaint and Bertholdt would nod slightly or hum in some sort of agreement before going back to looking blankly at the crowd, trying not to get overwhelmed.

 

He couldn’t stop thinking of Reiner, he found. He’d only figured himself out a few days ago, realizing his feelings. And he has be agitated ever since, restless and on the verge of an well overdue anxiety attack.

 

“I’m going to go find Reiner,” Bertholdt spoke as loudly as he could over the music to Armin, who nodded a confirmation. Getting up from the arm of a couch, he mushed through the bodies to find his friend. Or a drink. Either would be good.

  
  


 

* * *

 

 

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry," Reiner slurred slightly, his drink now half on the shirt of the petite blonde in front of him.

 

"Haaaah, s'okay, Reiner," Christa grins. "I'll just take it off!" She's piss drunk already, and several whoops go out as she peels off her shirt. Ymir immediately comes flocking over. He moved as briskly as he could in his inebriated state to go refill his cup. As he turned to walk away, he bumped into Bertholdt.

 

“Bertie!” He exclaimed. Bertholdt winced. He hated that nickname.

 

“Reiner,” He replied determinedly, “I want to get drunk.”

 

After taking a moment to process the seemingly uncharacteristic statement, Reiner then cheered, bringing his friend with him to the slew of drinks set out in the kitchen. Reiner handed him a bottle of light beer as he proceeded to refill his cup from the keg. After he’d filled his cup near to the brim, he turned with a swig to find that Bertholdt had already chugged his drink.

 

“Damn,” He commented.

 

“Something stronger,” Bertholdt coughed slightly.

 

That was how Bertholdt Fubar got properly drunk for the first time; in Jean Kirschtein’s kitchen in the upper eastern side of town 45 minutes away from his house with his best friend who he wanted to kiss more than anything.

 

He needed to leave. His thoughts were full of his best friend and the party was too loud and there were too many people and just too much everything and--

 

“Bertl,” Reiner clasped a drunken hand on Bertholdt’s shoulder. “D’ya wanna go home? You look like-hic-like you’re thinking too hard.”

 

“Y-yeah.” Bertholdt muttered.

 

* * *

 

 

They clambered drunkenly into Reiner’s truck, and as earlier that evening, he threw the car into life and began to drive.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They were halfway home. The roads were near empty. Reiner would play the scene over and over in his head in the following weeks, months even. This may not have been exactly how it went, but it was true enough to Reiner:

 

Bertholdt, with his face flushed and his brain buzzed, looked over at Reiner and they shared a smile.

 

Bertholdt opened his mouth to say something.

 

Bertholdt didn’t have his seatbelt on.

 

Bertholdt was on the side of the car that got hit.

 

Bertholdt wasn’t screaming or crying, it happened too fast for that.

 

Bertholdt flew into his lap and his neck was snapped in half.

 

Bertholdt and Reiner were thrown from the car.

 

Bertholdt was smiling and alive and then he wasn’t.

 

Bertholdt, his best friend, laid still in a pool of their combined bood.

 

Bertholdt was dead.

 

Bertholdt, Bertholdt, Bertholdt.

 

 


End file.
